Letters to Karen
by Batman Murdock Kent
Summary: Matt pens letters to Karen, explaining what happened to them and Foggy, along with other characters since the fall of Fisk. With Fisk now gone, new evils try to take his place. Matt's evolving relationship with Karen only complicates this new threat. Inspired by Netflix's Daredvil, and Daredevil: Yellow by Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale. This will be an ongoing series! More to come!
1. The Blind Leading the Blind

Dear Karen,

I don't know what went wrong. I never once thought that putting Fisk away would be the end, that him going to prison would make Hell's Kitchen some kind of paradise. But I never imagined this would happen. My dad used to tell me that you could do anything as long as you're not afraid. I'm terrified Karen. I'm supposed to be the man without fear; you were the first person to call me that remember? But now, everything is falling apart around me. I can't eat, I can't sleep, and it's getting harder and harder to find the will to go out there at night, to do what has to be done.

Foggy has been telling me to take it easy, to maybe take some time off from, "being a blind devil-ninja" as he puts it. But he stopped after a few days. After he realized exactly what has been happening. He's become worried. Now, you know Foggy, and for all of his jokes and stories he really does care. And he believes that he has found an answer to some of my problems.

He told me to write you a letter. I know, I don't know where he comes up with some of this stuff. And yet, I find myself here, typing away, telling you everything, and hoping it will help. I don't know if you'll ever even see this, but that would make two of us I guess.

Then again, maybe it would be better to look at how we all got here. They say that hindsight is twenty-twenty. I guess that's true, even for a blind man.

Do you remember that day; after Foggy put up the sign and told us he was going to talk to Marci? I told you that all we could do was move forward, together. When your hand touched mine, I felt the lotion you had put on forty minutes ago. I felt your body temperature increase by half a degree, and I could feel your smile. Your heart skipped a beat when we touched, what you didn't know was that mine did too. We worked together the rest of the day. I grinned like an idiot every time I realized that we had beaten Fisk, and that we still had each other. Or, was it because it was just us together?

I wasn't sure at first how long we had worked when we decided to go to lunch. Then I heard the distinctive sound of St. Brendan's bells from Eleventh Street. It was one in the afternoon. Four hours of working together, of making calls, checking old law books, researching precedence, and it had felt like a vacation. It must have showed too. I slid down the handrail on two feet when I thought you weren't watching. You must have caught me when I stuck the landing at the bottom of the stairs.

"How did you do that?" You asked. I could smell your adrenaline. You must have thought that I had fallen down the stairs or something.

"Just, feeling daring today I guess." I said, a vague excuse but I had nothing on better to defend myself with. It was stupid on my part, to risk something like that, knowing you were in earshot. Maybe a part of me wanted you to know it was me. Maybe I wanted you to look at Matt the same way you looked at Daredevil when he whisked in to save you. You gave me a look and told me not to break my neck just because I was in a good mood about Fisk being put away. The irony that Fisk had nearly broken my neck with his own hands was not lost one me, but he didn't matter anymore. When we got outside, you threaded your arm through mine to lead me, so I wouldn't have to use my cane.

No, Fisk didn't matter, what mattered was that I could feel you next to me. I could smell the soft hints of vanilla and jasmine that came from your shampoo and your perfume. My gifts always seem to make the city so loud. A construction crew with heavy machinery a block away gives me a migraine, and the sirens and pedestrians, the shouting, the cars horns blaring, music blasting, sometimes it seems like too much. But that day, all I could hear was the sound of your heartbeat. The entire city seemed to silence itself out of reverence for us that day.

How long was our lunch, or our walk back to the office, or even the rest of the day? Time is a funny thing. Everyone always seems to be checking their phones or their watches to make sure they are on time. Time to a blind person is also important, but it's also inconsequential. I could usually tell what time it was by the sound of an hour hand moving slowly on a clock, but that day, I didn't keep track of it at all. I didn't listen to the clock, or the pigeon on the opposite building, or the car that had just gotten a flat tire two blocks over or anything else, I just listened to you that day. It was beautiful. You were beautiful.

Eventually, you told me it was getting dark outside. When I acted surprised, you laughed.

"Sometimes it's hard to remember you're blind." You said. And I smiled. It's a strange feeling that I don't often get, to feel normal. But you had to leave; you told me you had something important to do. I felt the familiar sensation of getting sucker punched in the gut. I thought that you might have a date. So, being the brilliant lawyer I am, I asked you.

"No, just some errands to run." You replied. I could hear the annoyance in your voice. I mentally kicked myself, an entire day, a day without gangs or rapists or murderers, and I may have just destroyed it.

"Well, whoever doesn't ask you on a date is an idiot. It should be a crime." I responded. I could never quite tell, I was flustered myself, but I swear you blushed.

I counted the steps of your high heels as you left. You turned and said goodbye, and that you hoped all of the other days coming up would be like this. What did I tell you again? I think it was, "With you, I'm sure they will be Karen." I remember that I lingered on your name, almost as long as you lingered in the doorway.

Foggy came in as I was packing some documents in my briefcase. He said that he had run into you on the stairs, that he apologized for not showing up that day and he was going to work late to make up for it. I told him that he didn't need to tell me that, that I heard everything.

"Then you know what she told me right?"

"Yes." I responded, I bent down, pretending to pick up a dropped folder but I was really trying to hide the grin that was still on my face from where I had heard you.

"She said that you two were together all day, that she had an amazing time, and that it was the first time she had forgotten about Fisk or anything since he was put away." Foggy sounded accusatorial and was using his lawyer voice.

"If that is how she feels I'm glad."

"Matt, you know how that sounds right? It sounds like you two are…you know."

"Hm?" I played dumb, partly out of Foggy's expense, but mostly because I was afraid of him voicing my own fear.

"It sounds like you two kinda, you know, have a thing for each other."

"Foggy, Karen is an amazing woman. She deserves a guy better than me." I said simply before getting up and heading to the door.

"Matt you're already a great guy." Foggy sounded tired already, "don't you mean she deserves a guy who doesn't dress up like the Devil, parkour across Hell's Kitchen and beat up guys with two sticks and his fists?"

"Yeah, that's what I mean."

"Look, I want you two to be happy but, don't get her wrapped up just to dump her so you can go off and be Underdog ok?" I could sense the worry in his voice.

"Don't worry Foggy, Karen would never date a guy like me." I said simply.

Foggy actually bought it, and I tried to believe it. I can't decide which of us was blinder.

Love,

Matt


	2. Fogwell's

Dear Karen,

The first letter, helped. I'm not sure how, but it did. I guess I shouldn't question it; maybe it just helps getting this all out. It feels almost like going to confession in a way. Is that blasphemy? I'll have to ask my priest later.

I went to Fogwells Gym today. It had been a while, and the fire had taken it's toll. Even through the lingering smells of smoke and ash, I could still smell my dad's old aftershave. I swear he practically lived in that gym. My dad wasn't perfect Karen, but God he was my hero. He still is. I wish you could have met him. He would have loved you. I can hear him now, "Matty, you treat that girl right. That's the kind of girl you don't mess around with, you treat her right."

I miss the gym; I used to beat out all my frustration there on a heavy bag. It always felt like my dad was there with my when I was there, like he was right over my shoulder while I was hitting the bag. He'd probably be ashamed of my left cross. Since the fight and the fire that came from it, it's different. There's no place to even hang a bag anymore there. It's like they didn't just attack a place I love, it's like they attacked my dad too.

Fogwells was a sanctuary for me. Now it's gone. All I have left now is my church and you that I can really break down to and feel weak. And even at church, it can be hard to go sometimes. I know, a good catholic boy should go more often than I have been going lately, but then again I guess a good catholic boy shouldn't be vigilante either.

The truth is, I'm scared to go because I'm afraid that they'll attack me there too. They found me at Fogwells by coincidence, I think. But I don't want to run the risk to the innocent people that might be at the church, and Father Lantom. I've lost one of the places I feel safe, I don't want to lose the others and risk people's lives at the same time.

I remember when you first saw me at Fogwells. It had been a long day for all of us at the office. Word had gotten out that we were partly responsible for putting Fisk away, so suddenly clients weren't as scarce. It had been a welcome change, but also a stressful one. Between you answering calls, helping us with cases, and setting appointments. You must have been exhausted. Foggy and I met with several clients that day. One of them was lying about his claim of assault, and was just looking to sue for money. I whispered to Foggy he was lying and we kicked him out. But for the most part, it seemed our business was finally taking off. Everything should have been perfect, which, naturally, meant things couldn't be.

There had been a spike in crime. Since Fisk had been dealt with, several upstarts with half his brains and twice his bravado had tried to take over. Mostly there were just thugs, drug dealers. They were easy enough to deal with. But, there was just so many of them. Even an idiot street tough could get in a few lucky shots. Every day, after a busy day at work, I had to go out there. The police were stretched thin after several dozen officers had been arrested for being accomplices with Fisk. Hells Kitchen had a handful of dedicated men guarding it against a surge of dozens, and even hundreds of gang bangers and thugs. Some nights, I stopped muggings or assaults, burglaries and extortion, sometimes with no police siren within ten blocks. The police did as much as they could, but my city needed me as much as it ever did when Fisk was out and free. It was exhausting, and the bruises and cuts and sprains didn't help. Lucky for me, your average gang member isn't a trained fighter. Still, stupidity, dumb luck, and superior numbers meant I took a decent amount of hits.

On top of that there was, whatever we had at that point. Between us I mean. Since the day that Foggy came back late from spending time with Marci, we seemed, different. No, not different, closer? I had kept my distance from you when we dealt with Fisk; I guess Stick's advice sunk in without me even wanting it to. But in the weeks following his arrest, it was like there were no walls between us. I remembered what it was like to be happy. Had you asked me, I would have gladly told you then that I was Daredevil. But that's not how you found out. That would have been too easy. But for how happy I was, I was also conflicted. Happiness, contentedness, stability, these were never really feelings I had become acquainted with intimately. The idea of being happy, and of being with you, seemed like an unreachable dream. Or maybe a dream I didn't deserve to have become a reality?

Foggy insisted that there was something between us. And there was. Obviously there was. But you deserved better. You still do. But then, for the first time in my life, I wasn't sure what to do. To take you on a date, to admit what I felt for you, to let you into my world, it was dangerous. Not to mention Foggy would try and kill me. But, there was no way you wouldn't notice I was Daredevil. And then, even if you did know, there would be nights we couldn't be together, too many of them. I'd be worried someone would find out who I was and attack you to get to me. You'd be worried about me. It all seemed too complicated. But not telling you, just burying those feelings inside of me, trying to ignore how I feel when I was near you at the obvious, it seemed just as hard. On the one hand, I didn't want you to be hurt, by others, or me because of my nighttime activities. On the other, saying that I didn't listen for you to return to the office when you weren't there, or that I would think of you, of the soft touch of your skin, the soft vanilla of your hair, when I was trying to sleep at night, to keep the noise of the city at bay, was a ridiculous lie. I was torn.

So, I took a night off from beating up thugs to beat up a heavy bag at Fogwells gym. Looking back, it was selfish. I should have been out there that night, stopping criminals from hurting my neighbors, the others who call my city home. But things were different then. I needed time to heal from a bruised collarbone, and I needed to figure out what to do about you. So I beat different combos into the bag at the gym, smelling my dad's Old Spice aftershave, along with the sweat and leather.

I must have been there for almost an hour, I had worked up a decent sweat, and I still didn't have any clue what to do about you. About us. About whether it would be safe for there to be an us. You must have heard me hitting the bag, because you tried to be quiet. You didn't know that I could hear your footsteps from outside the gym doors, that I could smell your vanilla shampoo, along with my dad's after-shave. Or that the sound of your heart had become so important to me; I could pick it out of a chorus of sounds.

I stopped, and turned to face you. You must have been nervous, your heart rate increased as you came into the actual gym. You held your left hand in your right, and bit your lip.

"Karen?" I asked. I knew full well it was you.

"Yeah, Hi." You looked down, and then back up at me. "How did you know it was me?"

"Vanilla shampoo and high heels." I smiled, "never knew many boxers to come in with both of those. One, maybe."

You laughed at my pathetic excuse of a joke. Foggy was always the funny one, but with you, I just loved hearing you laugh. It was practically musical.

"I just-I just wanted to make sure everything was ok." You stepped closer. So did I, but I didn't realize it. "Foggy said you've been having trouble sleeping, and that you fell and hurt your chest or something?"

"Yeah, it hurts a little," I said, as I pulled the collar of my tank top down to show you the bruise. I flexed, like a schoolboy trying to impress his crush. You gasped slightly, but tried to play it off.

"Matt, are you ok? That looks awful!" You said, and suddenly you were right in front of me, examining my bruise. You didn't realize it was in the perfect shape of a baseball bat.

"Don't worry," I pulled your hands away, but lingered on them. Pulling away from your touch was agonizing. "Murdocks can take a hit better than anyone."

"Ah," you said as if something clicked. "Is that why you come here, because of your dad I mean?"

"Yeah…Foggy tell you about him?"

"Yeah, just a little bit. That he was a boxer, and that he, um, died when you were young."

"That's the long and short of it." I chuckled, I don't know why. Maybe it was to show you that I wasn't uncomfortable talking with you about him. "He was a great man. I wish you could have met him."

"So do I." You seemed to pause, unsure of what else to say. "Do you want to talk?"

"Yeah," I answered without even thinking. I don't know if it was because I could spend more time with you, or because I planned on actually telling you how I felt. Maybe it was a bit of both. "That,that sounds nice. Maybe not here though." I could see your smile, even without my eyesight, and my heart felt like it was about to explode.

"What about a nice conversation over libations at Josie's?" You asked, and by the inflection in your voice, you almost sounded excited.

"Sure," I smiled, "Just, let me clean up a bit."

I wonder what would have happened, if we had gone to Josie's that night? Would we have just told each other how we felt then and there? Would I have told you everything, about me being Daredevil? Would we have lived happily ever after somehow?

But we didn't go to Josie's. You got a call from Foggy, telling us we had a new client, a doctor no less, in jail asking for us. He said that we needed to go there immediately. So, we stopped by my place so I could get back into a suit, actually look like a lawyer. You told me I looked handsome. I felt like I could fly after you said that.

But then we met Dr. Zebediah Kilgrave. We met the Purple Man.

And he took you from me.

And I would do anything to get you back.

Love,

Matt


	3. Promises, Promises

Dear Karen,

It stormed tonight. The thunder was deafening, and every clap made me grit my teeth with pain. The constant hammering of the rain against my mask didn't help my concentration either. It was like fighting in the middle of a percussion concert. It reminds me of when we left to visit Foggy after we had our talk at Fogwell's.

You called a taxi, and we rode there together. We settled into a comfortable silence. I always loved that about us. We didn't need to say anything really; it was just always there. And then, at that time, we were happy with that.

"You two nice couple huh? Go to precinct for strange date maybe?" Our taxi driver asked in broken English. He spoke Russian, I think. You looked at me; you were waiting to see how I'd react.

"We're going there on business. I'm a lawyer and we work together." I responded. I was so careful to not say, "we're not a couple." You smiled, and your heart skipped a beat. I loved getting that reaction from you. It was so small; you probably thought I couldn't tell. And I couldn't see it definitely. But I always knew. I loved it. It made me feel like I mattered to you.

We found Foggy inside; he looked tired but happy to see us. He led us down to the holding cell where Zebediah Kilgrave was waiting for us. How can I even describe this man? Few people have ever truly earned my hate. Fisk was one; how he could hurt people for his own twisted views, the people who killed my Father, whoever they are. And Kilgrave. He was blocked by a plastic wall, and had to communicate with us through a speaker, attached on his side by a phone. He practically overloaded my senses, even with the plastic wall between us. I told you later Karen, how I see, how it seems like the world is always on fire, how it is all reds, oranges and yellows. But Kilgrave…he was a putrid and disgusting purple. He was repulsive. His heartbeat was steady, and the smell coming from him, it was indescribable. It was like he created his own cologne or something, he reeked of it. And when he saw us, I heard him laugh, that sickening, hellish laugh was the first thing I heard from him. We should never have gone to see him.

After some introductions, Foggy explained that Kilgrave had called to hire us to be his defense in a case of sexual harassment and assault. He also promised he could pay handsomely. When I whispered to Foggy to ask how much he would pay, I was taken aback. I could buy the building I lived in with the amount her offered to put us on retainer with.

"Well, Dr. Kilgrave," I said, already suspicious. He was throwing too much money at us at the beginning for this to be right. That, and he started to look at you Karen. At first, he just seemed to observe Foggy and I as lawyers, but ever so steadily his gaze turned to you. It unnerved me. "We're going to need more facts before we can accept this case."

"Of course." He said, as he brought is attention back to me. He still looked at you through the corner of his eye though, whenever he got the chance. Like he was peeking at something he wanted but couldn't have at that moment. "It really is ridiculous. This woman claims that I harassed her and even raped her. Nothing could be further from the truth." I listened to his heart, hoping to catch him lying, but was disappointed. He seemed confident in his story, and his heart didn't betray him. It did beat somewhat erratically, but not bad enough to tell he was lying or not. Either he was a seasoned liar, or he was being deceptive. "We did have a few romantic encounters, and yes, some of them were sexual, but it was all consensual I assure you."

"Then why is the city prosecuting you?" I asked. Foggy let out a sigh, he knew that if I was being this obstinate already that I didn't want to take the case. Foggy is a good guy, but sometimes he likes to pretend that things that are too good to be true are true. I don't. "The DA's office wouldn't be calling for an indictment unless they felt sure in their ability to put you behind bars."

"What my partner means," Foggy tried to cover for my bluntness, "is why would they go through the trouble of arresting you if they believed you? Why don't they believe you?"

"I can't tell you really," Kilgrave tried to sound sympathetic, but there was something about him that didn't feel right. "I've been cursed with misfortune it seems. I am a very wealthy man, and I have made enemies to get where I am. I think this is just a ploy by some of those enemies to drag my name through the dirt. It's too bad too, I really did like Kayla. Not that she looked anything as radiant as you," and suddenly he was talking to you, staring at you, telling you you looked radiant. I felt the hands on my cane tighten into a vice. "Such a lovely lady. Do you work for Murdock and Nelson Ms.…?"

"Um, Page." You responded. You were uncomfortable. And I didn't like the way he was looking at you, or how his body temperature got a little warmer while he did so.

"Ms. Page. What a lovely, lovely name."

"Maybe we should get back to the matter at hand." Foggy said. I could tell by his voice that he was worried about Kilgrave now as well. "Do you intend to fight these charges or would you want us to try and broker a deal with the prosecution?"

"Oh, I intend to fight them. Prison does not suit me at all. I love my freedom, and all of the fascinating and lovely people I get to meet too." He looked at you again. If I could, I would have punched him through the plastic wall between us. "Tell me, will Ms. Page be with us at court? And will she wear a skirt that length there?"

"Excuse me?" You were both surprised and angry. You had every right to be. "Don't about me like I'm some Barbie doll you creep."

He laughed, and it chilled me. I wanted nothing more than to attack him, or hold you and tell you I'd protect you, or both. "I like you Ms. Page. You're so much more passionate than the other women in my life. They all just want to please me."

"We're done here." I said, I couldn't take another second of that man being near us. "We will not take your case Dr. Kilgrave, I do not feel you are being hones with us, and you seem unaffected at all by the actions you are being accused of. And personally," I took a step toward the plastic, "I hope you rot in prison."

"Well, your partner has a strange way of negotiating a price." Kilgrave turned to Foggy.

"I'm afraid I agree with him, Dr. Kilgrave. Best of luck finding an attorney, but we will not be representing you."

Kilgrave frowned. He obviously wasn't used to not having his way. "Is this an issue of money? I could always pay you more."

"No it's more an issue of you being a huge creepy and vaguely sexist jerk." Foggy said, making me smile before we all got up and left. As we turned our backs to him, he called out to us. He didn't yell, he just spoke in a confident voice.

"Well I am sorry you made that decision. But I'll manage with another attorney I believe. But I think I'll see all of you very soon, after I am acquitted. Especially you, my lovely Ms. Page." Before he could continue we were out into the lobby of the precinct. If I had only known Karen, what kind of monster we were sitting in front of, what he would to do us, to you, I would have stopped him then and there.

"That creep." You said, half angry and half unsettled.

"Are you ok?" I put a hand on your arm, and you rested you hand over it. And just like that, I felt warm again, after being chilled to the bone by Kilgrave.

"I'll be fine. I need a drink though." You said, with a halfhearted laugh.

"Josie's is still open…" I suggested. You smiled.

"That was the plan originally, so I guess that would work."

"Hey, yoo-hoo," Foggy whistled at us like we were puppies, "Rick and Ilsa, going to Josie's without little old me?"

"Of course not." You laughed, but you also sounded the least bit disappointed. I was glad I wasn't the only one that thought it would just be you and me.

"Awesome! Whelp we better get going that way. Hey, Karen, can you get a cab? I wanted to talk to Matt about cancelling a retainer that I had partially drawn up for Kilgrave."

"Yeah sure, be right back." You walked out the door of the lobby, and I knew Foggy was lying. He wanted to talk to me, but not about Kilgrave.

"Ok, Matt, seriously. I don't like beating the horse called 'Karen and Matt are totally one romantic comedy movie away from kissing' to death, but something has to be done about this, it's getting worse."

"What do you mean?" I feigned innocence, but I knew he was right.

"Matt, you two have been flirting with each other for the past five weeks constantly. That, I can forgive, but it's the fact that you two don't even know you're flirting with each other that ticks me off." He was trying to deflect the seriousness of the issue with humor.

"We've just gotten closer is all."

"Matt, she's blogging about you. Anonymously!"

"She's not, wait, how do you know if it's anonymous?"

"Matt," I could hear him sigh and could hear the faint scrape of his fingers massaging his temples. "Have you not heard of ?"

"No." I said deadpan.

"It's a sight were you can go to seek anonymous relationship advice, or just talk about how your relationship is going, or anything really. And I know it was Karen because of what she posted."

"Why, what did she post?" I heard a ruffle of fabric, and the familiar sounds of Foggy typing the password into his phone. "I'm gonna keep my voice down, since we both know you can hear me." I nodded before he just took off reading what you had written.

"Posted anonymously: I am a young woman working at a small law firm." He stopped to look at me.

"That could be anyone."

"My employer and I have become incredibly close lately, since we went through an ordeal together. It was terrifying, but through it all he was there for me, always fearless, and ready to fight for what was right."

Again, Foggy looked at me. "Sound familiar?"

"There are dozens of small law firms that face dire situations all the time." I tried to play it off. But I was starting to see similarities.

"He's strong, compassionate, intelligent, and when we're alone, I feel so safe, so comfortable. But, I don't want to hurt our current relationship as friends and our relationship at the office by pursuing a romance with him. He works with his best friend, who is also my friend and employer. Plus, he really deserves better than a wreck like me. But, the way he says my name, or the way he listens to me, like every word is the most important he's ever heard, it's getting harder and harder to deny there is something there. At first, I just thought it was because he was blind, and I wanted to take care of him and help him." Foggy paused to look at me. I kept silent, knowing there was no point in denying that this was you and that you were talking about me this way. "It just feels so natural being around him all the time. It's strange how we just seem to fit perfectly into each other's lives. Like it was meant to be."

"Ok, I get the picture."

"Really Matt? Because she goes on to was poetic for another paragraph."

"I'll deal with it."

"You sure," Foggy's voice went from annoyed to concerned. "Look, I do want you to deal with it, but I didn't mean to rush you."

"You didn't, I was going to have to sooner or later." I said. I didn't mean for it to come out as grim as it sounds.

"What are you going to do?" At that moment, Karen came back in. Her mood had improved; she was smiling brightly as she triumphantly told us that she had gotten a cab for us to take to Josie's. The rain had also snuck under her umbrella, hitting her hair, making the vanilla and jasmine leap out even more.

"Come on guys! We have decisions to make that we'll probably regret in the morning!" She yelled at us from the doorway.

"I have no idea. Also remind me to ask you later why you are on ." I said, and without waiting for Foggy's reply, I went to join you. We made the best of that night. But, I think that story is worth waiting for its own letter.

Goodnight Karen, Love,

Matt


	4. Drinking Games and Balloons

Dear Karen,

I went to Josie's today. It reminded me of so much. The smell of the cheap beer, the tobacco smoke that still lingered even after it was made illegal to smoke indoors, there was even a brief lingering scent of jasmine and vanilla from the table were we used to sit. They say that smell is the one sense that is most closely linked with memory. I wonder if that is even more so for me.

The most fun I had ever had at Josie's was with you, and often with Foggy. I never allowed myself to drink much, because I knew that after I left, I'd be out, trying to make my city a better place. It's hard to fight and navigate the city when you're half drunk. So, I usually just held myself to one bottle of Heineken. You never asked why. I always loved that about you. When you were curious about someone, you would let him or her tell you at his or her own time, you would never press the issue.

The night we went to Josie's after seeing Kilgrave, it felt so naturally. If I had never become Daredevil, is that the life I would lead? I would be happy, with a practice that makes decent enough money, and with you and Foggy by my side. It would be paradise. But we all make decisions, sometimes for the worse, sometimes for the better.

The ride over from the precinct to Josie's was short, but felt strange. I had told Foggy I would tell you how I felt about you. Which, most likely, meant telling you about my nighttime activities as well. I was already beginning to wonder how to do it, when to do it, or even if I should. You don't deserve an idiot boyfriend who wears red and beats up crooks every night. But, what you had said on that blog. What Foggy had said, it made sense.

It was a Thursday night, and Josie's wasn't that busy when we got there. I remember opening the door for you, and guiding you in by putting my hand at the small of your back. You gasped, and made some excuse about it being colder in the bar than you had expected. The fact I could make such an impact on you, with such a small gesture, it made me smile despite myself.

"So then," Foggy asked as we all sat down at our typical spot. "Josie's is usually a Saturday/Friday thing, what's with the early day?"

"Oh, Matt and I were just going to hang out I think." You looked to me, for confirmation, but there was something else there too, something like, hope.

"Yeah, she found me at Fogwell's. We were going to come here afterwards."

"A workout, and a beer. Sounds like it could be a Murdock biography!" Foggy joked, but he wasn't wrong. I guess my Father and I were just made up of dichotomies. "You guys sure I'm not interrupting anything?"

Neither of us spoke. We didn't want to be rude. "Foggy you're here and you're going to make us laugh." You said, and the mood immediately became jovial and light. I never understood how you could do that, just light up a room with you presence and your words.

"Oh Matt, this was not a good time to bring Karen to Josie's." Foggy sounded defeated; he had clearly noticed something I hadn't. I became tense, was there someone here who would hurt her? Surely I would have noticed. "Hey Josie, could you take the TV off mute please, so Matt can hear it?" I waited a few seconds, and then heard it.

It was Rocky IV. I immediately regretted coming here tonight. "Can't we cheat this once Foggy? Not do it this time?"

Foggy was already ordering the drinks, "Matt we promised each other, swore we would always do this when we watched Rocky IV. We have to, trust me I'm not looking forward to it either."

As the shot glasses and bottle of Jack Daniels was delivered to our table, you had finally had enough and had to ask.

"What are you two doing?"

"Rocky IV is on the TV!" Foggy stated, apparently believing that was enough.

"In law school we used to watch the Rocky movies in our dorm to just relax, or for white noise when studying," I explained, "our favorite movie was always Rocky IV. It got to the point that we saw it so many times that we made a drinking game out of it."

"And we swore that whenever we watched Rocky IV," Foggy continued for me, "we would play this drinking game. Whenever, wherever."

"Which looking back was incredibly stupid." I said, then I heard it, I heard Rocky say "Adrian". Foggy handed me a glass, and we both took a shot of Jack Daniels.

"Well I want in." You said. No, no, that was definitely a bad idea. Us getting drunk together, while dealing with our emotions, there was no way I could let that happen. I wasn't going to let us get drunk together.

"Great! Welcome to the tradition, Josie can I get another shot glass?" But then Foggy happened.

"Foggy, you really think this is a good idea, us all getting drunk when we have to go into work tomorrow?" Foggy was having none of it.

"Matt we swore, that we would always do this." He sounded offended I would even mention not going through with the drinking game. "Now God as my witness if you don't do this I'm firing you."

"You can't fire me. We're partners."

"I'll find a way to fire you."

"Come on Matt, what's the worst that could happen." You chimed in. And now, I had to, for you. I never realized just how much what you thought meant to me. So, if you asked me to, then fine, I'd get drunk with you. But I had to make sure to pace myself; I didn't want anything I needed to tell you slip out under the influence of alcohol.

After a sigh, I grabbed my shot glass, "Foggy tell her the rules."

"Yes! Beauty has this day killed the beast that is Murdock!" Foggy never could hold his liquor that well, and he already had a buzz. "One shot every time he says "Adrian" Two shots for every boxing match there is, three shots for every time the theme music plays!"

Needless to say, we each had a few shots that night, since we caught the beginning of the movie. And I hate to tell you this Karen, but towards the end, I cheated. I would throw the liquor out of the shot glass before it got to my lips. Foggy was too drunk to notice really by then, and you didn't seem to care.

By the end of the night, Foggy was so far gone that I had to pick up the tab and call him a taxi. I helped him in, but not before he grabbed the lapels of my blazer and pulled me close.

"You going to tell her tonight?" He slurred, I knew I'd be able to smell the alcohol on his breath for a few days to come. "Cause you know, you know you need to tell her at some point that you like her and that you, you know, like her."

"Yeah, I got it." I said, trying to unceremoniously stuff him into the back of the taxi. I told the driver where to take him, and gave him a fifty. It would cover any fare, and was insurance in case he threw up in the back seat. That left just you and me.

"I need to go home, thanks for a great night." You said, you smiled so brightly at me, I wanted you to always this happy. "I'll see you later!" You slapped my arm playfully and then went to get a cab. Luckily for me, your heel decided to break at that exact moment. You fell, and I caught you. It was so cliché looking back on it. I had actually known for a while that the heel on your right show was weak. I had daydreamed about maybe catching you if it broke, and now there we were, living it out. It was so hard to break contact with you. But I eventually brought you back up.

"Thank I, I'm clumsy and- I mean my heel broke." You explained. You were looking at me, and I never wanted you to stop. "I should get home."

"Are you good for that? I mean, my place is within walking distance?" I offered. I wish I could say it was out of the kindness of my heart, but a part of me just wanted to be with you for the night.

"I don't want to impose." You were always so worried about being a burden. You never were.

"Please, it'll be nice. And I'll know that you're safe." I replied. Looking back, I must have sounded so desperate. How you didn't see through me, through all of my lies, I'll never know. Maybe, you just chose to ignore them out of kindness to me.

"Ok, if you say so." And you kept smiling, all the way down. This time, I led you. You didn't ask how I was so sure of where to go. You didn't ask how I knew when cars were coming through crosswalks or where potholes were. You must have assumed I knew it because I walked it all the time. Or maybe you had figured out there was something different about me, and you were just waiting for me to come clean. When we came into the apartment, you were singing a Katy Perry song. I was suppressing a laugh, but you didn't care. You were having fun. Suddenly, you screamed, and everything stopped. I immediately ran in to see what had happened.

Was it Fisk, had he found out whom I was and had attacked? Had someone broken in to my apartment? But there you were, holding a balloon.

"You kept it?!" You practically screamed. You were holding the almost completely deflated monkey balloon in your hand.

"Of course I did." I said, and then everything just sort of tumbled out, "it reminds me of you, how you cared about me when I was at a really low point. I couldn't throw it out, so I just, kept it I guess." I realized how it must have sounded, but it was like I couldn't stop myself.

"Matt…" you began. You came closer to me, step by step. Things were escalating quickly.

"Karen, we need to talk." You smiled, and it wasn't your normal smile either, it was a smile that spoke more about this situation that any amount of words could.

"I know Matt." You looked down, and you were holding your hands in front of your chest. "But let's not do it like this ok?"

You always were the smarter one.

"That seems smart." I replied.

"No, smart is going to bed," you said with the slightest slurring of your words. "Um, can I, if it's not too much problem could I-

"You can borrow whatever you need." I cut you off, I know you didn't like borrowing my shirts necessarily, but you had to sleep in something.

"Thanks, I'll wash it for you." Why would you do that? It wouldn't smell like you anymore then.

"Don't worry about it." You changed, you got into my bed, and I laid down on my couch. It was quiet for a while. I was drifting off to sleep, listening to the sound of your breathing and your heartbeat.

"Thank you Matt, for everything." You said, and my world stopped. The way you said it, how it reverberated around my apartment, I wanted the feeling it gave me to last forever.

"Thank you Karen, for tonight, and for everything." I replied, and then under my breath, "and thank you for teaching me what happiness is again."

I'm don't think you heard me, so I'll say it again.

Thank you Karen, for teaching my what happiness is.

Love,

Matt


	5. Last Rights and Second Chances

Dear Karen,

I was clumsy last night. I was stupid. There was a small gang of about four young boys; they must have only been between 16 and 18 that had been mugging people. I found them last night, and I wanted to put the fear of God in them. They had cornered an older man, maybe in his late fifties, and pushed him into an alley. I jumped down from the opposite building to make a dramatic entrance.

The trick to fighting more than one person is to always take out the bravest one first. He's often the leader, and if the others see him go down first, they're more likely to run away. So that's what I did, I assumed the kid with the knife was the leader. So I walked calmly towards him, and as intimidatingly as I could said,

"You're all going to leave Hell's Kitchen now, and never come back."

I thought that would be enough. Why am I always wrong about these things? Two of the kids sprinted away suddenly, the sudden sound of them running distracted me for the second it took the leader to lunge in and stab me in my shoulder. He never got a second chance though; I immediately grabbed his wrist, and broke it by spinning with it, and using the force of the spin to kick the remaining idiot in the head. When I was done, the leader was on the ground, holding his wrist.

"Go, turn yourself in, and name your accomplices. If you don't, I will know. Understand?"

The kid answered yes, and I could hear he was telling the truth.

"Good," I then gave him a right hook that floored him to the ground. I do have a reputation to live up to after all. Still, the stab wound hurt, and the bleeding was doing me any favors. Claire has been out of town for a while now, and I didn't want to call her over one stab. So I told the older man that he should be fine now, and jumped back up to the roof, over the garbage cans.

It took me about twenty minutes to run back to my apartment. I had to run past your apartment to get there. A part of me wanted to go in, but I didn't. Instead I just kept running, trying to focus. I was losing blood quicker than I thought I would. By the time I got to my apartment, I was dizzy. Honestly, I was scared of losing consciousness and bleeding out in my kitchen. I thought how ironic it would be, for the rugged vigilante Daredevil to bleed out in his own home because of some punk with a knife.

Luckily, I got the bleeding stopped relatively quickly with dressing and bandages. The knife the kid had been using was small, so the stitches were relatively quick, I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt though.

The last time I had been stabbed, you noticed right away. It had been far worse than what had happened last night. A member of the local Yakuza had been trained in Isshinryu karate, and he carried a tanto knife on him. He had practically gutted me. He had stabbed me right between the plates in my abdominal armor, and had punctured one of my lungs. I had to hold his hand and force the knife to stay in me just to keep him in place so I could finish him off. While he struggled to get his knife back, I whipped one of my billy clubs into the temple of his skull, and he went down instantly. However, I still had the problem of the gaping stomach wound he had given me.

That night, I did call Claire. I told her to meet me at my apartment. She was waiting for me when I got there. I don't remember much, just that I climbed in through one of my windows, and literally fell inside. She said something, asked me what had happened I think. I just managed to mumble out "stomach" before I passed out.

It's strange being knocked out, most people just see nothing and hear nothing until they wake up. For me, it means that I'm completely at the mercy of who is there with me. I can't respond to any of my senses, and I lose all of my "sight" for lack of a better term. It's a terrifying process when I wake up. I have to reorient myself completely to all of the sounds, smells, and feelings of where I am. The one thing I do love about being asleep, or knocked out though, is dreaming. It's one of the handfuls of times I can see color again, besides the reds, the yellows. I dreamt of you that night. It was like you were there with me. You were watching over me, you never left me.

I woke up halfway through the makeshift operation Claire was performing. The pain had awoken me, and it was all I could do to keep from yelling and drawing attention from the neighbors.

"Matt, Matt you ok?" Claire sounded desperate almost, that wasn't a good sign.

"What happened?"

"Your lung has been punctured, I fixed that relatively easily, but the real problem is the internal wound to your stomach. You're bleeding on the inside, and if it doesn't stop, you'll pass out and die within fifteen minutes." That's one thing I did like about Claire, she always told you the truth, whether you wanted to hear it or not.

"What do we do then?"

"I've done everything I can Matt," she sounded defeated, "We just have to wait now. Either you'll make it, or…"

"I won't," I finished her sentence for her.

"We'll just have to wait, and hope."

"Claire, I need you to do two things for me, get my phone, my normal phone."

I heard her get up, and she silently handed me the phone. It took me a few seconds to decide on what to do. You were the first person I called. I didn't know if I hoped I'd get your voice mail or not, but after a few rings, that is what happened.

"Hey, this is Karen Page, I can't get to the phone right now, so just leave your name and number and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

"Karen," I must have sounded awful, I struggled to talk, but everything just came out then, "Look, I've made alot of dumb decisions in my life. But, meeting you, hiring you at the firm, that wasn't one of them. When you get this message, don't come over, just stay at your place, lock your doors and windows, and head to the office tomorrow. If I'm there, I'll explain everything I promise. If I'm not, then you'll learn the truth anyway, just not in the way I wanted you to. There are so many things I want to tell you Karen, now that I know I might not get the chance. Promise me you'll take care of yourself, and Foggy too, and try and forgive me if I'm not in the office tomorrow. And know that, you mean the world to me. Goodbye Karen."

Claire didn't say a word through any of it, through both of the calls I made. She just listened. But I knew she understood. I got my phone out again, and this time, I called, and I prayed that he would answer. God must have heard me, because he did on the third ring.

"Hello?" Father Lantom asked and greeted at the same time. I wonder how often it was that a Priest got a call at four in the morning.

"Father, its me Mathew. I may need you to deliver the last rights on me tonight."

"Where are you?"

"It's better you not know, just in case I do die, I want there to be as little linking you to me as possible." I had thought of this before. It only takes one lucky shot to die, so I had planned for this.

"I'll be at the Church as soon as I can. You'll perform the rights on me there, and in case I die, you'll tell the police I just stumbled in and asked for the rights. Understood?"

"I'll be there as soon as I can." Of all the priests I've ever had, Father Lantom is my favorite. His sacrifices for his calling are inspiring, and his advice and help has been invaluable.

"Thank you, Father."

"Claire, I need one last favor from you. Will you drive me to the Church?"

"Matt, that isn't a good idea. I just fixed you up, moving you may damage your insides even more."

"Are you Catholic Claire?"

"No."

"Then you wouldn't understand." I said, and she seemed to give in.

"Fine, come on."

I don't like relying on other people for much. If it's one thing that Stick did beat into me, it's that self-reliance is key. Stick took it too far, thinking that people are only useful when you need them, and you shouldn't form attachments. But I had come to rely on so many people. For advice and moral questions, I always went to Father Lantom. When I was busted up, and needed patching up, I relied on Claire. I had relied on Foggy to ground me, and keep me thinking straight for years, ever since law school. And you, I relied on you for everything. I still do. I thought about that, and I thanked Claire for everything she had done. I didn't like asking her to drive a bleeding, and possibly dying, vigilante to his church. But she did it; she was there for me. I told her how much I appreciated her. She told me it was fine, and she tried to hide her tears, but I could hear her trying to hold back her sobs and I could smell the salt and water from the streaks that were running down her face.

I passed out again, and they had to carry me into the church as a limp body. When I finally did wake up, I was in a cot, in Father Lantoms office in the Church. I was still wearing my Daredevil attire.

"Here." Father Lantom gave me a cup of water and made me drink it. My mouth was so dry, it was a relief to have something to moisten it.

"I can honestly say that was the first time I've ever performed the last rights on a devil." Father Lantom finally said. I apologized, and tried to explain what happened.

"There's no need to explain what happened Mathew. You should thank God you're not dead. You were knocking on death's door."

"Where's Claire?" I asked.

"She went home after you stabilized. But she also brought you this." He handed me a gym bag with a shirt, tie, jacket, pants, shoes, and socks. "She told me to tell you to take it easy, but she also told me you wouldn't listen so I'm not sure what to say."

"My phone?"

He handed it to me, and when I passed my hand over the screen, the electronic voice on it said "five missed calls: missed call from: Karen Page, Karen Page, Foggy Nelson, Karen Page, Foggy Nelson, and Karen Page." That's when the memory of what I had said hit me like a hammer. I had to get to the office.

"What time is it father?" I asked

"It's about seven in the morning. You've only rested for three hours, and you were practically dead for one of them. You really should rest." He said.

"I can't, I have to leave." I said, and I began to take off my armor in full sight of him.

"Matt, son, really you need to take care of yourself. Take the day off."

"I can't father, you weren't the only one I called last night, just in case." I explained. We kept talking as I changed.

"Who else did you call?" He asked.

"A girl."

"Ah, I see. You love her."

"I," I didn't know how to answer. "She means everything to me."

"That's a yes then Mathew." He said, practically chucking.

"It's just, I don't want to hurt her. The kind of life I have, you know." I said, pointing to the now discarded red and black armor in the gym bag. "She doesn't need to know, she shouldn't know."

"Well, won't she know now anyway, since you called her?" I froze when he said that, he had a point. I had pulled you into my world by calling you anyway.

"She doesn't deserved to be dragged down to this, to me." I said, looking down.

"Mathew, how do you know you will drag her down? How do you know she won't lift you up?" Those were the last words he said to me, I was dressed by then, and was already moving as fast as I could toward the office. I didn't have my cane, I didn't pretend to be blind, I was just focused on getting to you.

I ran up the stairs, and burst into the office. And you were there. Your makeup was running down from where you had been crying. You looked up at me, and you got up. You practically ran to me, and I to you. You slapped me and then hugged me. You sobbed into my shirt, and I cried into your dress.

"Damn you Matt Murdock." You squeezed out. And I knew there was no going back.

I knew I had to tell you everything.

Love,

Matt


	6. Choices and Consequences

Dear Karen,

I'm sorry I haven't written. I didn't meant to stop, but my life got in the way again. It always seems to do that. There were times that I could have written, there were times I tried, but I couldn't. It's easy to remember the good times, like the day at the office when we spent all that time together. Or when we messed around at Josie's. But life isn't meant to be enjoyed, it isn't meant to be reveled in and celebrated, it's meant to be lived. And part of living is dealing with the consequences of your decisions. Whether that's calling the woman you love when you're afraid to leave this world without hearing her one more time, or pushing a man out of the way of a truck and being blinded by chemicals in the process.

Keeping things from the people that matter to me, it all seemed to be necessary. I don't know if I kept the truth from you for so long because I wanted to protect you, or because I feared your reaction. I wasn't scared of guns, knives, or beatings, but losing your trust, your respect, your affection, that terrified me. But my Father didn't raise me to run away from things. You can't run away from your problems you have to face them head on. You have to fight them. "You can't run from things your scared of Matty, you have to square up to them and take them with your chin tucked and your hands up." I have repeated his words to me dozens of times. But it's one thing to do have them in my head when I'm fighting someone, and it's another to have it repeated when I had you in my arms.

"What do you have to tell me?" You were still crying, I couldn't tell if it was from anger, grief, or happiness. I couldn't hear your heartbeat anymore, all I could hear was mine beating faster and faster. I had gone through the scenario of telling you about me several times, but facing it, laying myself bare before you, it was almost more than I could stand. I kept holding you, I didn't know if I had just become so comfortable with the contact, or because I was stalling for time. Eventually though, you regained your composure, while I continued to lose mine, and you took a step away. It was just one step, but it felt like a thousand miles.

"Matt? Where are your glasses and cane? What happened last night?" Your voice changed with the second question. You were angry. You had every right to be. "And I don't want anymore bullshit excuses. No more stories about how you tripped, no more rushed explanations by Foggy. Just you and me-" Your voice threatened to break again, and it was torture for me to realize just what I had put you through. "And the truth."

"I-" I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. I know what I wanted; I know I wanted to hold you again. I know that I wanted to tell you everything, to wave a wand and make it so that everything could seem normal. Hey Karen, I'm not really blind, I'm actually a vigilante, and I've kept this from you in the vain hopes to protect you from my life. I just did what I thought was right at the time. How do you break through the tangled web of lies I had created over months in a few minutes?

"I never wanted to hurt you." The tears started, I tried to fight them, but it was a losing battle. "I wanted to keep you away, because Karen-" I looked dead at you, and I can never be sure, but in that moment I think you began to understand, "you have to believe this one thing. No matter how you react, you have to know that I care about you."

"Matt?"

"I cared so much, that I blinded myself." I laughed bitterly at the irony, and then waved my hand over my eyes, "and not just in the normal way. I thought that if I kept you at a distance, you'd be safe from me. But I couldn't do that. It was too much for me, to try and convince myself that I didn't want more of what we have."

You stood there, and you let me speak. You didn't interrupt. Besides your heartbeat, the sound of your nervous swallowing, and your perfume, you could have been a statue.

"The truth-" I swallowed hard. My mouth was so dry; I just wanted to get this over with. "When I was blinded something got in my eyes. It did, I don't know what but something. I can't see Karen, that's the truth. But I can. My other senses, they create a picture that I can piece together to see the world almost like you."

"What?" It was so much to burden you with at one time. I'm sorry Karen. But once I started I couldn't stop.

"After my Dad died, I was trained by a man named Stick. He was blind like me. He taught me how to fight, and I kept training even after he left me. I don't know why: I told myself it was to keep in shape, to stay ready for the realities of the world as a blind person, that it was a way to honor my father's legacy as a fighter. But, one day, that damn man-the law couldn't stop him from what he was doing to his daughter. But I knew I could."

"Matt, what are you saying?" You were short of breath. I felt so ashamed, because I knew what I was doing to you. I was tearing down the person you had trusted, the good blind lawyer who overcame the odds, who fought for the little guy, and I was showing you the real me. The real me wasn't some knight in shining armor. The real me was a Devil.

"I'm saying that I'm Daredevil. That I've been lying to you. That no matter how good my intentions were that I hurt you, and that's the last thing I wanted Karen. Last night, I was stabbed, it was bad. I almost died. I realized I had to tell you. I'm saying that I can't keep you from hating me, or never wanting to see me again, or- dammit I don't know. I just want you to be with me. I want to keep you safe. I didn't mean for this-" it was becoming harder to speak.

"Matt….ok. You either have lied to me" you were trembling, I could feel it. I wanted to hold you, but I was terrified I had lost that privilege now. "Or you hurt yourself last night so badly that you're delusional. And that's what I'm going to choose to believe."

I think you knew. I just think you didn't want to believe that I was Daredevil.

"So we need to get you to a hospital ok?"

"No, I'm telling you the truth Karen."

"No you're not." You spat out through gritted teeth.

"Yes I am, you have to understand that I neve-"

"You're lying! Because the Matt Murdock I know wouldn't hurt me like that. The Matt I know wouldn't save my life dressed in a mask, and be so heartless to not tell me it was him! He wouldn't lie to my face; he wouldn't take my trust and just throw it right back at me with lies! He wouldn't just pretend to be blind as some act!"

"Karen…"

"Come on," You said, calming down for a brief second. You stepped forward to grab my arm to guide me. "We're going to a hospital."

"No." I grabbed you, then unzipped and threw down the gym bag that had been hanging from my shoulder. I heard the leather and Kevlar pieces of armor fall out. And the roll of the metal billy clubs across the floor was deafening. "I'm sorry."

"You," you just stared at the spilled items on the ground, inculpatory evidence. "You're him."

"Karen-"I took a step towards you, but when I extended my hand you batted it away.

"Leave me alone!" I was helpless as you got your jacket, and you walked out. I didn't know what to do. I could have followed you; it would have been easy. All I'd have had to do was follow the click of your heels, the sound of your heart beat, the scent of vanilla and jasmine, mixed with the salt in the tears you were shedding and the adrenaline. But I had no right to chase after you. You had every right to storm out; I had hurt you. This was justice.

I don't know how long it was until Foggy came back. He found me in my office. I was a wreck. I had never felt the sense of loss and loneliness that I felt then. I was convinced I would never see you again, you would give up on me, you would quit your job at our firm, you would move cities, and eventually would forget me. And it was my fault.

"Matt?! Where have you been Karen and I were worried sick?" The frustration in your voice gave way to worry when you saw the state I was in. "What happened? Where's Karen?"

"I told her. Everything," those four words was the only thing I could say. It took effort just to do that.

"What?" Then he looked down, he saw the clubs, the armor. Foggy's a sharp guy, he pieced it together pretty quickly. He didn't need me to say anything.

"Matt, you have to go get her."

"She won't-" it was so difficult to choke out the reality of the situation I was in. "She won't see me. Why would she want to?"

"Matt, ok look," he dropped down to my eye level. "You just dropped a huge bombshell on her. You're right, she's probably pissed off at you. I know I was when you told me. But I also know that she's different. She'll want someone- I could go, but we both know she really wants you."

"Foggy, it's not that simple. I just destroyed her faith in me."

"Then start rebuilding it." That's one thing I've always loved about Foggy, how idealistic he is. "And start by going to her."

But I just sat there. I was scared to move, I was scared to face you again, of what you might say. Eventually, even Foggy had to leave, it was getting late. He had the presence of mind that I lacked to grab my armor for me before leaving, bless him. It had to have been dark when I left. I don't remember walking to your apartment. I didn't even mean to, but I did. When I came to, I was in front of your door. I told myself that I was just confused and disoriented from my wound. But I just wanted to be with you. I knocked, it was a few seconds but I heard you get up to go to the door. You had been drinking, but you weren't drunk yet, just on your way. You looked through your peephole, and your heartbeat spiked again, and you hesitated. Your hand was hovering over the doorknob. I silently prayed that you would let me in.

"Karen, please…."

I heard the door open, and you were in front of me. I had hurt you, and I just wanted to try and be there for you, and hopefully the wound would heal.

"What is it Matt?" You weren't sure what you should be feeling, should you be mad at me for lying? Maybe relieved I came to try and explain myself? One thing I could tell, you were tired.

"I came to fix this."

"It's not that easy Matt." You looked down, I wanted to tell you I would make what you were feeling go away, to hold you and never let go.

"I know it isn't. I just want a chance to try."

I don't know how long you waited, but eventually you made up your mind. Your heart became regular again, you made your choice, and you faced me with your head held high. You were so beautiful, your will, your sheer ability to remain a rock during a storm.

"Come in, and help me finish this bottle." I went in. And everything would be different from then on.

Love,

Matt

Authors Note: I apologize for the lack of an update in recent weeks. I will make no excuses and will try and update more regularly. I hope you enjoy.


	7. Peace

Dear Karen,

I still have the bottle you gave me from that night. I don't know why I'm telling you that, I don't know why I kept the bottle. No, I do, I kept it for the same reason that I kept your balloon. I keep things that remind me of you, something to look to when everything seems so dark. It helps when I can't see you for some reason.

The night you gave me that bottle, it was a day to remember wasn't it? So many emotions, but you still let me in. You had every right to slam that door in my face, but you didn't. You let me in, even though I had kept you out for so long. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if you hadn't opened the door. What would I have done? Would I have stayed there, would I have waited? Or would I have given up on one of the most important things in my life, one of the people who gives purpose to me and the things that I do.

When you let me in, it had suddenly hit me that I had never actually been inside your apartment. I knew where you lived, I had followed you home before on the rooftops to make sure nothing happened a handful of times, but I never wanted to spy on you, or to invade your privacy. You deserved better. I remember the scents that hit me immediately, I smelled chocolate ice cream, and I smelled the scotch, but the familiar worn in scent of you permeated everything else, vanilla and jasmine. It made me smile despite myself. You lived in a very quiet apartment, all I could hear was the sound of soft music coming from your laptop. You walked over and immediately paused the song, I didn't understand why until later.

"So," you said as you came back to the kitchen, bottle in hand, after pausing the song. You didn't say anything else while you grabbed two glasses from your cupboard. Your heart was calmer, but it was still faster than its normal rhythm. You didn't know what to say, neither did I. "What brings you to this part of the Kitchen?"

It was such a bland question; it seemed so normal, like I had just popped in to say hi, that it took me off guard. I chuckled, you giggled. Things were better already.

"Well," I said, after downing the glass you had poured for me. "There is this really sweet, really pretty girl I work with, and I upset her. I was looking to apologize," you looked at me then, and you smiled before looking down again, "and to also answer any questions she might have."

There was a long stretch of silence before you said anything.

"Does anyone else know?"

"Foggy found me half dead in my apartment one night, so he does. My priest, Father Lantom knows, and there is a nurse, her name is Claire, she patches me up when I get hurt. And, now you know."

"So that's why you and Foggy didn't want to see each other a while back." It was a statement of fact the way you said it, not a question. I always loved how smart you were Karen, how you fit the pieces together so quickly.

"If you're blind, how can you, you know," You then mimed out punching, I don't think you even realized you did, "do what you do?"

"When I was blinded, some stuff got in my eyes and it heightened all my other sense. I can hear for blocks around me, I can smell like a bloodhound, I can read newspapers because I can feel the differences between where there is ink and where there isn't. When you put all of it together, I kind of get an image in my head of where things are, kind of like sonar."

"But how can you fight, and how often do you get hurt?" You were concerned. I had just laid out for you how I had lied to you, how I had tricked you, and you were concerned about me. I didn't deserve someone like you.

"I was trained by a man who was blind like me, his name is Stick."

"A blind man trained you?"

"Yeah, I know it sounds goofy but it's the truth."

There was a silence again. Your heart rate kept spiking every few moments, you wanted to ask me something.

"You can ask me whatever you want Karen. I'll answer you honestly," I grabbed your hand then, and you didn't pull away, but you didn't accept it either.

"How do you know I want to ask you something?"

"I can hear people's heart rates. It's also how I knew you weren't lying when I first met you."

"You can-" you pulled your hand away and walked out of the kitchen. I followed after you.

"I know this is a lot to take in Karen. I'm sorry."

"Why did you pretend to be blind this entire time?"

"Because I am, I just have other abilities that make up for it. And, I can't just go around explaining to everyone what happened to me."

Then you asked what you had been wanting to this entire time. You got it out of your system. You yelled, you practically had to get rid of how you felt. And I deserved it, but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt.

"Then why didn't you tell me? Why did you let me talk about how I didn't think the man in the mask was a terrorist when you were standing right there? How could you save my life, twice, and then come back to work and look at me in the face and pretend like you did nothing? Was it nothing to you? Have you gotten so used to dodging bullets and saving people that you didn't even bat an eye when you saved me?"

"No, when I saved you, it was different."

"Why, how?"

"Because it's you Karen." I said, it didn't explain anything, but it made perfect sense to me almost.

You sat down on your couch, exasperated, and held your head in your hands. "What does that even mean Matt?"

I knew what you wanted to hear. I knew what you had to hear. But I wasn't ready to tell you yet, I didn't want to tell you like this. So, I did the best I could. I told you the truth, like I promised. But I left out part of it for later.

"Karen," I sat down next to you, and I put my hand on your back. I wanted to hold you, but I hadn't earned that privilege back yet. "It means that you are special. It means that, you're one of the few people that I let in. And when it comes to it, you're the only person who actually makes me feel like I'm worth a damn when I'm around them. You're everything to me Karen. I'm just sorry you had to hear it like this."

You stayed still for a little bit. I didn't move my hand from your back; it made me feel better to have contact with you. When you finally did move, you're eyes were watery. I thought I had messed up, that I had made you sad or mad again.

"Do you really mean that Matt?"

"Yes, that's why I called you first last night Karen. It's strange how being near death kind of clears some stuff up for you." I made a joke out of it, but it was true. And it says a lot about a person that they have to almost die to finally tell someone how they feel about them. You smiled, and you laid your head on my shoulder. I don't know why you did that really. Maybe it was because you just wanted to hear me say that, or maybe you were just exhausted from the emotional roller coaster I had put you on? I didn't care, I just loved holding you. I don't know how long we stayed that way, but you fell asleep after a while. I couldn't sleep, and it wasn't just because of the noise I could hear all around the city. Honestly, I didn't even notice the outside noise, and smells at night. I just noticed you, how you fit so perfectly against me, how small but important you felt in my arms. How perfect you were. I listened to how normal and wonderful your breathing was. And your heart, I swear Karen, it beat at the same speed mine did that night. It's rare that I'm perfectly happy, where the world seems wonderful and there is nothing bad. This night, I didn't think about Fisk, or about going out on patrol to stop a mugger or some other criminal. It was just you and me. And it was wonderful.

Eventually, I fell asleep too, lulled into dream by the sound of your breathing and the scent of jasmine and vanilla. We woke up at the same time, both in our normal clothes, both stiff from how we felt, and both the happiest we had been for a long time. If only we had known what was coming in the future Karen, would we have still been so happy? You made two omelets. I tried to help. I was never much of a cook, but my pathetic attempt at helping make breakfast at least made you giggle a few times. And the domestic way we worked together, it was so strange, but it felt so right. Eventually, we sat down on the couch again, and we ate. You leaned against me, and it all seemed like paradise to me.

"You know, there is still a lot we need to talk about." You said, after you had put your plate down on the coffee table and was nursing your cup of tea.

"I know," I said. We were skirting around such complicated issues, but I didn't care. I didn't care because I was holding you, in your apartment, the day after I slept there with you in my arms. "But I'd rather take you to dinner and talk about it after we eat."

"Mathew Murdock, did you just actually ask me out on an official date?" You sounded mockingly shocked. It just made me hold you tighter.

"Yes, Karen. I would love to take you on a date."

"Ok, but on two conditions ok?" I became worried, but I agreed, "One, you take this home with you and finish it off. Think of it as a thank you for hunting me down last night." You held up the bottle of scotch that we drank from last night that we left on the coffee table. I chuckled and naturally agreed. "And second, don't wear red, ok? And by that I mean, nothing red with horns on it too." Again, this made me laugh, and again, I quickly agreed to it. It would be nice to forget about being Daredevil for a night, to just enjoy my city with you, instead of protecting it. You watched the sun go up, until it must have been about ten in the morning. You told me you had to get ready for work, and that I should to. I agreed, I grabbed the bottle of scotch, and I began to make my way out when you called back to me.

"Hey, when is our date anyway?" I could hear the smile in your words. You were teasing me. Not a few hours ago you learned I was a blind vigilante who beat up thugs with his bare hands and now you were teasing me. You were incredible.

"Oh, yeah" I said, rubbing the back of my head with my hand, "we never agreed on that did we?" I was flustered; I didn't know when would be a good time. "How about tomorrow night?"

"Sounds good to me." Again, you smiled, and again, even as a blind man; my world became a little brighter.

"I'll pick you up at seven." I turned to finally leave, but something stopped me. I turned around again, and I don't know why I said what I said, but I felt like I had to say it. "And Karen, I want to make this work. And I'll do anything to make sure it does."

You smiled, and you said very quietly, "Thank you Matt." And that was it. I left. I had never felt so at peace, but still so excited before. But then I realized two things that broke me from my paradise.

I had to prepare to go on a date with you. That alone was terrifying to me. I hadn't been on a date in some time, and my history with women wasn't very good. I wanted everything to be perfect, and I had only given myself one day to prepare. But the second realization was even scarier than the first.

I had to tell Foggy about all of this.

Love,

Matt


	8. Preperations

Dear Karen,

Do you remember that day at work, after I spent the night at your apartment? I can't remember ever asking you how you felt then, but for me, it was strange. You had arrived before me, and you had clearly filled Foggy in on what had happened. When he saw me, he called me a dog, and hugged me. You suppressed a laugh.

"It's about time you two made things official! When should I rent a tux?" Foggy was joking. Foggy only jokes when he's having fun or he's nervous. Even I couldn't tell which it was on that day.

"It's just a date Foggy." You said, but I still heard your heart skip a beat, and you blushed. You were adorable; you looked up at me and then quickly back down. I wanted to hold you again.

"Pshh, you don't understand Karen. I've always wanted to be a best man, and if Matt and you get married then you guys like, literally have to make me best man. It's all a part of my devilish scheme!"

"I thought I was the devilish one around here?" A joke? I told a joke about myself being Daredevil? The things you did to me Karen, how you changed me in a natural but profound way, sometimes without me even realizing it.

"Oh my God, he told a joke that was overly dripping in sarcasm and darkness." Foggy sounded shocked and pretended to fall into a chair. He then pretended to beat his chest with his fist in an attempt to save himself from his fake heart attack. He was in rare form that day, but I guess we all were.

The mood was so different in the office. There weren't any secrets between us anymore. We worked like normal, but there were more jokes, and more time to just chat and be friends. We still got work done, we still filed, researched, called, scheduled, but everything seemed lighter. A weight that I had been voluntarily carrying for the past few months was gone. And my world on fire suddenly seemed under control. I didn't see a raging, hellish inferno anymore. Now, I saw a beautiful world, with you being a beautiful woman in it, lit by sanctimonious candles.

At about five in the afternoon, we were all packing up to go. You left first, as was normal. You hugged me though, before you left. It was so chaste, it just seemed like a hug, but you kissed me on the cheek. I could feel your lips, the lipstick on them, the intoxicating smell of jasmine and vanilla. It was almost too much to not grab you and kiss you back. But Foggy was right there. He couldn't see the kiss from his angle, but if he had I know he would have agreed with me about what it meant. It was a promise, a mark, and a covenant. It was a brand that spoke to me, of a future worth protecting. Of a future with you.

When you left, I got the third degree from Foggy. He wanted to know literally everything that happened, and I obliged while still keeping our privacy. Our, it was our privacy now.

"You know you're probably the only guy who can tell the woman of his dreams that you have lied to her face for a month, after calling her before that and telling her he's dying, and then still get to stay at her apartment and get a date with her tomorrow night?"

"Well," I really hadn't considered all of those things at the same time, "when you put it like that."

"Ah, who am I kidding?" Foggy put his arm around me as we walked downstairs. "I'm happy for you two Matt. But what are you two going to do about the whole Daredevil thing?"

I practically winced at having to remember that, "we've kind of decided to cross that bridge when we come to it I think. We haven't talked about it in detail."

"Well that's probably the best thing you can do." Foggy smiled as we exited the door to the street outside. He clapped me on the shoulder and said a simple, "well good luck buddy," before he turned around to walk home. I turned around too, but suddenly I had a thought.

"Hey Foggy," I called. He wheeled around and immediately came back. "Can I ask you for a favor?"

"Sure, what's up Matt?"

When Foggy and I got back to my apartment, he was still giving me a hard time. By the time we finally got to my closet, he was chaining jokes together like my dad used to chain uppercuts and hooks.

"The great Matt Mudock, lady killer, lawyer, vigilante, scared by one little date with Karen!" He was having the time of his life at my expense. "And yet, who does he come to for advice? Me, the best best friend to ever best friend."

"I just need help picking out what to wear Foggy." I said deadpan. Foggy could be a little over enthusiastic sometime. But, he was the only one who knew my secret, and knew what colors looked good on me. For all that abilities that I have, I'm still blind, and I still have to have brail tags to tell the difference in color in my ties and clothes. Depending on the material, I can sometimes tell the difference by touch, but that isn't the most reliable way to choose a set of clothes. Besides, I needed everything to go right tomorrow night.

"Let's see her," I heard him shuffling through my clothes. "How formal is this going to be anyway?"

"Um, I don't know. I thought about taking her to Louis'."

"Ok, so kinda business casual, cool, cool. Hmm, how about this little ditty?" He took out a shirt, some pants, and a blazer. "It's navy pants with a matching blazer, but with a striped shirt to kind of break up the patterns a bit. Plus it will make your hair and glasses stand out through all the blue!"

"Ok, do I look alright in blue?" I was far more comfortable in red. It was a special color to me. After all, my Dad wore it.

"You'll look fine. Trust me I saw her glancing at you all day today, you could wear a loin cloth and probably still get her to fall for you."

I smiled, it was a joke but he was trying to make me feel better. Foggy is a good friend.

"Thanks Foggy. But, you should probably get going now." I said as I got out the trunk that contained my Daredevil gear beneath my Father's robe and gloves.

"You going out tonight?"

"Yeah, I won't be out there tomorrow night, so I need to tonight." I said, matter of factly. It made perfect sense to me.

"Don't you want to be well rested or something tomorrow? What if you get like really hurt and can't go?"

I hadn't thought of that. But it didn't matter I still had to go. I continued talking as I changed. "I can't let what Karen and I are doing now interrupt my nights. People out there rely on me, and I stop good people from getting hurt. Besides, Karen would understand."

Foggy through his hands up in a surrendering pose. "Alright, alright. Just, be careful ok Matt?"

I was careful that night though. It was a slow night; it was almost like the city knew I just wanted it to be over so I could see you tomorrow. There was a man who had been stalking his ex-girlfriend. He planned on stabbing her to death but hadn't worked up the courage to do it yet. I had warned him to stop or there would be consequences. I found him outside her apartment building that night, and I broke his arm. He should have listened to me. Around four in the morning, I was slowly making my way back to my apartment across the rooftops of Hells Kitchen, when I heard two men say something that made me stop dead in my tracks.

I thought maybe I was just imagining it. But I had a bad feeling, so I followed the sound of their voices. They were talking in an alleyway behind a nightclub that was well known to have connection to organized crime. It was one of the few actual mafia clubs left in Hells Kitchen, only allowed to still be operating because where it was located didn't matter to Fisk or any of the now more powerful players in my city.

"Yeah, the boss says that if we can find the woman who killed Fisks right hand guy, that maybe it'll get us a favor with the fat guy."

"Hey, watch what you say about him, alright? He may still be in prison, but he's dangerous man. And you sure it's a girl that offed his assistant?"

"Yeah, apparently some bum down by the docks saw Wesley drag some blonde girl into a warehouse. A few minutes later, the guy heard gunshots, and then out comes the blonde. Seems pretty cut and dry."

"So, there a hit out on this girl yet?" I was getting angrier and more worried with everything they said. There were a lot of blondes in New York. But how many were directly associated with Fisk, to the point that his second in command would abduct her? There was only one answer to that, and I didn't like it.

"Nah, the boss is inside, talking it over. I mean I doubt we could ever find out exactly who this girl is, but if we did, and we did kill her, man can you imagine the kind of leverage that could give us?"

I had heard enough. I jumped down and tackled one of the men to the ground. The other fumbled for the gun I knew he had stuck in his waistband. I cracked his collarbone with my billy club, before stomping the other man on the head, knocking him out. It wasn't enough though, and I knew it. Luckily for me, I was angry now. And when I'm angry, I'm determined. And when I'm determined, I can fight through a lot of men. So I walked calmly into the bar.

It took me a second to locate the mob boss that was considering putting a hit out on you. It was disgusting; he was weighing the pros and cons of killing you like most people decide if they should go to the bank or grocery store while it's raining. It made me even angrier. He and his men numbered about seven, and five of them were carrying guns. The only way to get toward them was to cross directly toward them across the dance floor. Lucky for me, it was a slow night. Even luckier, I found the fuse box, the hum and feel of electricity around it was unmistakable. It gave me what I needed to make this work. I immediately ran in, and jumped up on the stage. The fuse box was directly to my left. The thing most people don't realize is that action is always faster than reaction. If you don't train, human reactions are actually pretty slow and easy to anticipate. And luckily for me, these mob idiots rarely practiced.

"Anyone here who doesn't want to see the inside of an ambulance, leave now!" I commanded. It got a few people out of the door. It also drew the attention of the mob captain and his soldiers. I heard them coming toward me, I heard the sound of metal and polymer being drawn from holsters. I heard the sound of a revolver hammer being cocked.

One man turned to the mob captain and asked, him, "Is this guy for real, like is that really Daredevil?"

"Yeah he's for real. Hey! What do you want?!" He yelled at me. He had four men with him, luckily for me, three of the men bolted. I later found out I had beaten them up a few weeks before.

"The blond woman, you're not going to put a hit out on her. You're not going to touch her; you're not going to even think about her anymore. Do you understand?"

The man chuckled, it's amazing the false confidence superior number and weapons give men. "I don't think that's going to happen buddy."

"Well then, it's time to give the Devil his due." I said, as menacingly as I could. I flicked my combined billy clubs into the fuse box and it had the effect I wanted. The entire club was plunged into darkness. Suddenly, every single person in the club was blind. All the mob guys panicked, one even mistakenly shot one of his friends. I don't see why they were so scared about being blind. Everything seemed normal to me.

I made quick work of them. They were practically useless without being able to see. But it took me a few seconds too long. The mob captain was able to escape out the back, the way I came in. I chased him down after I retrieved my billy clubs. He was out of shape, he smoked, and I followed the smell of his cigarettes and cheap wine, and the sound of his wheezing from the rooftops. I was just waiting for the right moment. Eventually, he turned down the wrong way, into an alley. He gave me all the privacy I could ask for.

I jumped down, and knocked him to the ground with one punch. I then held his wrist in a hold, and threatened to snap it if he moved or screamed.

"The woman. You're going to leave her alone do you understand?"

"Yeah sure, whatever you say!" He was lying; he just wanted to be left alone.

I twirked his wrist a bit and punched him in the mouth. I felt one of his teeth fly, and heard it fall to the ground. "If you lie to me, I will know. Now, you will leave her alone, and you'll use your connections to make sure no one tries to find out anything about her, or they'll have to deal with me, do you understand?"

"God ok yes!" he cried out, and he was telling the truth this time. I threw him against a wall and he held his mouth with one hand while rotating his wrist to make sure it wasn't broken.

"Now, usually I'd break your jaw right now." I said as I came closer to him. He was scared of me. He reeked of fear. I smelt the horrible smell and realized he had wet himself. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna break your jaw, because you need to tell others to leave that woman alone, right?"

"Yeah, yeah of course."

"Good," I said, and then I delivered a straight to his thoracic diaphragm. It wouldn't break anything, but it would knock the wind out of him, and hurt like hell. I made my way back to my apartment that night, and I thought about our date the next night. I was still looking forward to it, but now I had something else to reckon with. We had to talk about so much, and now I had to ask you if you had killed Fisk's right hand man.

What tangled webs we weaved.

Love,

Matt


	9. I Found it When I Didn't Deserve It

Dear Karen,

Have you ever had a problem? By problem, I don't mean an obstacle, or a stumbling block, or just something that is in your way. All of those things, they get between you and where you want to go. A problem is something that confuses; it has to be figured out. An obstacle can be avoided or destroyed, but a problem demands your attention. It cannot merely be ignored, or sidestepped, it has to be puzzled over, it has to be worked out, it has to be solved. An obstacle can inconvenience you; I've had so many obstacles in my life. My blindness was an obstacle that I overcame; my father dying was a stumbling block that I eventually came to peace with. Even Fisk, after we figured out what he was doing, was an obstacle that I broke through, literally. But problems, they can't be punched out or avoided; they are just there, mockingly silent and ever present. Obstacles can hurt, but problems keep you up at night. I dread problems.

But that Is exactly what I had, a problem. My date with you was coming up, just twenty short hours until I could pick you up and make my dreams come true. But something ugly and wrong had slipped into our paradise Karen. What was I supposed to do? We were so happy, we were finally happy. We were getting on with our lives, moving forward, just like I promised you we would, together. But then, word hits the underworld that a blonde woman killed Wesley, Fisks confidant and right hand man. I wanted to believe it was just a coincidence, but I knew better.

I was nervous enough; I hadn't dated in a while. I wanted everything to go perfectly, I wanted you to be happy. How are you supposed to ask the woman that you care so much about if she killed someone? The idea alone terrified me.

There are times to get advice, and there are times to rely on your own instincts and feelings. I wanted to call Foggy, to tell him what was going on, to ask him what I should do. I wanted to go to confession; I wanted to talk to Father Lantom. I held my phone in my hand, contemplating calling Claire, maybe getting a woman's point of view on the subject, and a woman that is used to being wrapped up in the Daredevil world too. But what good would it really do? All it would do would worry Foggy, and God knows he's already worried about too much. Father Lantom would be a good idea, but I know what he would say. The truth sets us free after all. Even though it made sense, I couldn't go to church. I couldn't walk out the door. I could have called Claire, looking back; I probably should have called Claire. But, things were different with her now. She had recently started helping other people like me; one in particular was taking up a lot of her time, Luke Cage. I could feel she didn't feel as comfortable around me anymore, I had meant to ask her why, but I didn't get the chance. Besides, I had tried to kiss her, I had been hot and cold with her, asking her for relationship advice didn't seem right. No, like so many other times, I had to figure this out for myself.

I went about my day as usual, or at least tried to. There are a few things I have learned from an early age that it takes a lifetime for others to learn. If you don't face your problems, they are never going to go away. That's just the way the world works. If you ignore them, you're only fooling yourself. Ignoring a problem is just giving yourself some time to make yourself feel better, when you could just try and figure out how to solve the problem in the time you spent trying to trick yourself into believing the problem is now gone. I worked out, I showered, I made myself some lunch. Through it all, I couldn't think of how to approach you about this. How do you ask someone if they have killed someone? It was ridiculous.

Finally, the hour came. I dressed in the suit that Foggy had helped me pick out, and I even wore cologne. I hate cologne, I can smell it for days after I try and wash it off, and it's overpowering. But for you, I would have bought a plane ticket to Paris just to get the newest brand. I still didn't have a plan, I didn't know what to do, but then as happens so often when I'm lost, my Dad came to me.

He used to tell me about boxing all the time, I already told you that. But, sometimes I think he used boxing to teach me lessons. All he knew was the ring, getting punched and punching back, so he taught me his best how to be a man the only way he knew how. He told me once, he said, "Matty, sometimes stepping into the ring is the scariest thing you can do. Sometimes, you just don't have a strategy to beat the other guy. That doesn't mean you don't go in the ring though, you go in there and you fight the best you can. Some of my best fights I had no game plan going in, I just went out there and boxed. You understand what I'm saying?" I told him yes at the time. I thought it was just another boxing story. But now, almost twenty years later, I finally understood what he meant. So, I smiled, knowing old Battlin' Jack was still looking out for his boy, even on a date, and stepped out the door.

The way over to your apartment, I was a nervous wreck. I climbed the stairs to your room and I felt more trepidation in knocking on your door than I do kicking in the door to a room full of criminals. Then you opened the door, and I thought my heart had burst. You were even more beautiful than you usually were Karen. Your hair was draped over one side of your shoulder, a beautiful waterfall of silver and gold. You wore a dress, when I felt it I knew it was black, the perfect counterbalance to how light you made everything around you. It was right then, that I knew it. I found love standing in your doorway Karen. I found you. I found you when I didn't deserve you. I found you when it wasn't supposed to be; right in front of me.

I'm stopping now Karen. It's too much almost to write a letter about the day before our first date and then the date itself. Too many memories, too many emotions. Honestly, as I write this, I'm crying. I know this letter is short, but I promise I'll make it up to you. I didn't think I could write much to you tonight, but I wanted to. I almost felt like I had to. I love you so much Karen, I wish you could understand that. I don't always say it, but I can only do what I do, and be who I am, because of you. The names Jack Murdock, Stick, and Fisk are what pushed me to be the man in the mask. But it was you Karen, who taught me that I could be more; that I could aspire to do more. You taught me I could be more than a vigilante in a mask, that I could be a hero. I became a vigilante because of Jack Murdock, Stick, Fisk, but I became Daredevil because of Karen Page.

Love,

Matt


End file.
